


You know what they say about running with scissors.

by whittler_of_words



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Implied/Referenced Character Death, No Mercy Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-03 22:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5309756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whittler_of_words/pseuds/whittler_of_words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone could lose an eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You know what they say about running with scissors.

The body wants to cough, but you don’t let it. It’s yours now. All yours. You cup her dust in your hands and you breathe in deep and you think you can taste it, like sugar, lighter than air and clouding up around you as if it’s trying to get in- don’t worry, there’s plenty of room, plenty of room for everyone. Everyone in this fucking god forsaken hell.

Monster funerals are funny, aren’t they? They die and they dissolve and their loved ones spread their dust -- ashes to ashes -- over the thing they loved most, but, you wonder: how do they decide? How do you decide? How do you ever know? It’s selfish, isn’t it, to pick one thing above any other, to choose, to say “this is it”. Right? What are possessions, anyway? A book. A blanket. A toy. _Worthless._ It’s all worthless.

They buried you in the cold unforgiving earth like they could forget about you, or wanted to, at least. As if they couldn’t have burned your body without a thought and spread your ashes -- dust to dust -- alongside his, but you guess you can understand them not wanting _you_ to live on, oh no, not you. Never you. Not that you ever deserved it. Not that you couldn’t hope. But here you are! Back from the fucking grave, and won’t you pay so dearly for it. You don’t need to be asked twice.

You’ll devour them all. You’ll take them in. You’ll show them how it feels to be denied the one solace they could ever really hope for, you’ll _show_ them, show them how it feels, and if even one of them lives on inside you it’s just icing on the cake; maybe they can see. Maybe they can watch. Watch as you tear this entire mountain down stone by stupid stone until you’re all finally buried under its weight. Maybe that’d be good enough. Keep your eyes open, unblinking, as you throw another handful of the old lady up into the air and pull her into your lungs. You’re one and the same now. You’re all the fucking same.

There’s something like a glimmer of regret in your stolen heart but feelings like that have always been so easy to ignore, especially when they don’t really belong to you. They’re still in there. The shadow of the person who was supposed to replace you. Won’t be, soon enough. Not like they couldn’t stop you if they really wanted, but you’re still here, aren’t you? That’s right! No such thing as an innocent bystander in a game like this. Just idiots and the weak willed, killers who think the blood on their hands isn’t their responsibility just because they weren’t the ones who put it there, murders, fucking murders, dust on your skin and in your lungs where are the knives _where are the--_

You smile as wide as you can and your chapped lips split and start to bleed, bitter iron in your mouth, on your tongue, an eyestrain on your dustpale face, you’re sure. Makes you wonder where the camera is. Wiping your hands on your shorts leaves them stained like the last time you tried to bake. Remember? It’s funny enough that you want to laugh, but you don’t, because there’s something precious in your lungs and you want to keep it forever and ever and ever. 

They tried to show you what it feels like to love. It was sweet. They failed, of course, but still trying just long enough to realize how much of a lost cause you really were- worthless. Hopeless. Awful, worthless hopeless garbage child, murderer, blood on your hands. You tried to tell them, but does anyone ever listen? No. Not until it’s too late. Not until the consequences rear their ugly holy heads.

But you’ll show them all what it feels like to LOVE.

Especially if it kills you.


End file.
